


hoping you’ll see (what your love means to me)

by deanmonsandangels



Series: Dean Winchester Deserved Better [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x20 fix it, Fluff, M/M, Post-Episode: s15e20 Carry On, and dancing, and everyone who should be in Dean’s heaven is there, just all fluff tbh, there’s singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:34:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27965396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanmonsandangels/pseuds/deanmonsandangels
Summary: When Dean dies on a Thursday in November, Cas is there to welcome him at the proverbial pearly gates.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Dean Winchester Deserved Better [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2048135
Comments: 6
Kudos: 65





	hoping you’ll see (what your love means to me)

When Dean dies on a Thursday in November, Cas is there to welcome him at the proverbial pearly gates. 

Sort of.

He can’t really even call it a gate. It’s blue skies, sloping mountains, pine trees, and open fields. The sun shines more brilliantly and warmer here.

The air breathes cleaner; the breeze is cool and languid. 

He doesn’t realize he’d been walking until he comes to a stop, dirt swirling around his legs. Nothing hurt: not his hip, not his knees, his back, or chest.

Nothing.

“Well at least I made it to Heaven,” Dean murmurs to himself. In the next moment, a familiar structure appears a few yards away. 

“ _No way._ ”

He walks the short distance before standing in front of the bar, and he’s smiling so wide and he can feel his laugh lines on his cheeks and the crinkles of his eyes. 

_**Harvelle’s Roadhouse** _

The same neon lights in the windows, the same sign. Everything is exactly the same. 

“Awesome,” and then he’s walking up the porch and has a palm on the door before he stills.

Dean shuts his eyes briefly before opening them with a silent chuckle. He knows who’s there. Even before he turns around. 

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean turns around to see Castiel standing a few yards away. 

He feels his face cracking from smiling so wide, and he feels his eyes stinging with tears behind them. He faces Cas fully now, hands shoved into his pockets, and begins to walk towards him.

He ducks his head, almost shy, and glances up at him through his eyelashes. “Castiel,” he greets with pressed lips, eyes gleaming.

Heaven is strange, he thinks. He feels no sense of unease here. No nerves, no jitters. He only feels contentment. Peace. Joy.

Cas tilts his head in that fucking adorable way he does, and Dean can feel something behind his ribs melt. He stops when they are a few inches apart. 

Cas’s eyes are bluer than Dean has ever seen them. Moss green and ethereal blue. 

Earth and sky.

The wind gusts gently around them. The blades of grass dance.

Cas lifts a hand and places it on Dean’s left shoulder. Cas’s shoulder. Dean smiles a small, watery thing. 

“Are you...real? How-” and Dean trails off. He somehow already knows the answer. Cas squeezes his shoulder and smiles.

“Yes. It’s me.”

Dean’s eyes well up and his nose starts to tickle. He looks up to the sky and wets his lips in that way he does to hold tears at bay, before meeting blue again. 

Dean reaches between them and grips Cas’s always-crooked tie. Cas looks confused at first, maybe even a little scared. But when Dean’s free hand comes to cradle the side of Cas’s neck and lets his fingers brush the strands of thick hair at its nape, Cas’s face smooths out and he stands a little taller. 

One lone tear breaks free from the corner of Dean’s eye, and Cas’s thumb is there to catch it as he sweeps it over his cheekbone before cupping his jaw. 

Dean tugs him close before snaking his arms around Cas’s waist under his trench coat and hugs him close, face buried in the angel’s shoulder. He melts when Cas’s envelopes him, cheek resting against his crown, hands rubbing soothing patterns against Dean’s back. 

“You’re early,” Castiel whispers. 

Dean gives a small chuckle. “Yeah, well...I’m a dumbass.” And then he’s inhaling slow and deep against Cas’s skin. Cas smells like sweet summer rain, the crisp air of fall. 

He smells like Cas. 

“‘n I missed you,” he murmurs against the warm swath of exposed skin on the angel’s neck before pressing a feather-light kiss there. 

Cas seems to melt at the contact and grips Dean tighter. Dean feels fingers card through the short strands of hair and Cas’s other hand comes up to cup the back of Dean’s head. 

“Me, too.”

Something occurs to Dean then, and he lifts his head to meet Cas’s eyes. His hands travel up Cas’s arms until they rest on his shoulders. 

“Hang on...how did you get out? How did you get here?”

Cas simply smiles and gives Dean a knowing look. “Jack may have had something to do with it.”

Dean grins widely before grasping that tie again.

“That’s our boy.”

Cas smiles again, and Dean thinks he’ll never ever tire of seeing it. 

His eyes flit between Cas’s and his lips and back again, and he flattens his free palm on Cas’s chest, just over where his heart would be.

“Cas,” he begins, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, “about what you said..before you left-”

“You don’t have to say anything, Dean,” Cas offers quietly. “I don’t expect-”

“Well that’s good,” he cuts Cas off, “‘cause I wasn’t really plannin’ on talkin’. Not really my wheelhouse.”

Cas blinks quizzically. “Wha-” but he trails off when Dean grazes the stubble of his cheeks with the soft pads of his thumbs.

Dean starts to tremble slightly when he cups either side of Cas’s jaw again.

He dives in.

Their mouths slot together perfectly; Cas’s is warm and soft and pliant, and Dean brushes his tongue against the crease of Cas’s lips, and Cas lets him in. 

Dean knows then that he’s in Heaven.

—

Everyone’s here.

Dean’s eyes scan the entire barroom from the table where he and Cas sit: at the bar, there’s Ellen, Jo, Ash, and Bobby discussing their hunting glory days, Karen at Bobby’s side. Charlie and Kevin are huddled with their laptops at one of the booths (because there’s WiFi in Heaven, apparently), and are probably discussing the latest sci-fi series or some other nerdy thing.

John and Mary are sitting at one of the candle-lit tables, holding hands and murmuring in each other’s ears that is always met with soft laughter.

Rufus is there too with Aretha at one end of the bar, Johnnie Walker Blue in hand. Dean doesn’t think he’s ever seen the man smile the way he is right now, so earnestly and genuine. 

Missouri and Pamela sit at the table nearest to Dean and Cas, talking about when Pamela séance’d Cas after Dean was rescued from Hell. 

“I think he was just trying to show off in front of his boyfriend,” Pamela says with a laugh as Missouri drops her face in one hand. 

“Good Lord,” she marvels. “Some first impression there, Castiel. Burning out a woman’s eyes? Oh!”

Cas ducks his head. “It was an accident, I assure you,” and Dean can’t help but feel a little bad for the guy. 

Pamela pats Cas on the back. “All in the past, sweetie. No harm done. Well, no permanent damage anyway,” and then tilts her head back in laughter. Dean can’t help but snicker.

Everything is fucking _perfect_.

Contentedness blooms in his belly, warming his insides until he feels like his body is humming. Everybody he has ever loved and lost in one room. 

Sam, Eileen, and the others will be along, Bobby had said. And he feels complete peace knowing that Sam is in good hands, and that they will take care of each other until their times come.

Dean sits back in his chair, glass of wine in hand. They’re a bottle and a half in, celebrating Dean’s arrival, and his head is buzzing in the best possible way at the base of his skull.

He glances at Cas from across the table through his eyelashes. 

His trench coat, suit jacket, and tie are all draped on the backrest of the chair, because _we gotta get you out of this holy tax accountant get up, man_ , and if he’s honest, Dean wants to feast his eyes a little. 

Cas’s white shirt is unbuttoned at the neck, and Dean’s mouth goes a little dry at the naked dip of his collar bone. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and Dean marvels at the ripples of muscle and bone in the angel’s forearms, his fingers itching to touch. 

Dean smiles. His cheeks are warm, and something curious blossoms behind his ribs. 

“Dean?”

He snaps out of his trance and meets Cas’s eyes. “Hmm?”

“Are you alright?” Cas asks, and Dean realizes that he’s been caught staring.

Dean smirks. “Mhm. Jus’ enjoyin’ the view.”

Dean almost dies (again) when Cas blushes and ducks his chin with a roll of his eyes.

Yeah, he can get used to this.

The jukebox in the corner starts playing a new song, and Dean straightens in his chair with a wild grin.

“Oh _hell_ yeah,” he shouts with a slap to the table, wine bottles and glasses clattering. “I love this song. C’mon Cas, you’re dancin’ with me.” He stands and reaches for Cas with an outstretched hand.

Horror flashes across the angel’s face. “Dean, no. I’m a terrible dancer. I couldn’t-”

“Well, that makes two of us then,” he says and grabs Cas’s hand and pulls him to his feet. “Come on. My ‘got-dead’ party, my rules.” 

Cas groans and throws his head back with a grimace as he lets Dean guide him to the dance floor. “‘Got-dead’ party? Seriously?” 

“Yeah, yeah, shh,” Dean smirks as he turns to face Cas. “Here, lemme lead.”

Dean clasps Cas’s hand with his own and draws them to his chest, his other hand wrapping around his waist coming to rest on his back. Cas’s free arm mimics Dean’s.

 _Attached at the...everything_.

Their mouths are inches apart, and Dean’s bowed legs go a little weak as he stares into Cas’s eyes. The lighting in the bar changes to ambient, almost candle-like glow. 

_Lying beside you, here in the dark;  
Feeling your heartbeat with mine.  
Softly you whisper, you're so sincere;  
How could our love be so blind? _

They sway somewhat in tune with the rhythm, but Dean’s a little wine drunk and accidentally steps on Cas’s toes. More than once.

“Sorry,” Dean giggles— _giggles?_ — and lets all of his weight sink against Cas, who accepts it willingly. Dean’s lips press against his temple, and Cas hums appreciatively as Dean starts to sing low into Cas’s ear.

_We sailed on together,  
We drifted apart,  
And here you are, by my side._

_So now I come to you with open arms,  
Nothing to hide, believe what I say.  
So here I am, with open arms,  
Hoping you'll see what your love means to me,  
Open arms. _

“‘s how I feel about you, you know. I’m not good with words, but..,” Dean slurs and sucks a gentle kiss into Cas’s neck. “This could totally be our song.”

“Dean…” and Dean pulls back slightly at the crack in Cas’s voice. Tears spill over in those cobalt blues, and Dean’s thumbs are quick to catch them as he frames Cas’s face.

“Hey, hey. None of that,” he says through a smile, licking his lips. “You’ve got me. You always have. And I’ve got you, so…” he smiles and presses the softest of kisses to Castiel’s mouth before resting their foreheads together. 

They never stop dancing. 

_Living without you, living alone,  
This empty house seems so cold.  
Wanting to hold you,  
Wanting you near,  
How much I wanted you home.  
Now that you've come back,  
Turned night into day,  
I need you to stay. _

“I love you,” Castiel says, and he brings their joint hands to his lips and presses a kiss to Dean’s knuckles. 

Dean squeezes his eyes shut and nods knowingly. It may be a little easier to accept love up here, but sometimes old habits die hard. Even in death. 

“Me too,” he murmurs, and he wraps his free arm even tighter around the soft, curved line of Cas’s waist for emphasis.

_So now I come to you with open arms,  
Nothing to hide, believe what I say:  
So here I am, with open arms;  
Hoping you'll see what your love means to me,  
Open arms. _

As the song ends, Dean thinks maybe this could be his forever. Surrounded by family, both given and chosen; blissful in his angel’s arms. The love of his life. The one who has saved him more times than Dean can count. At utter peace knowing that Eileen will take good care of Sam, and he looks forward to the day when they can all be together once again.

Until then, he’ll take this. The life he’s always dreamed of but was too scared to hope for. A life of love, warmth, comfort, and peace. 

A life after death.

And he’ll think, maybe, just maybe, he deserves it.

**Author's Note:**

> this was written because @blacklightguidesnic told me “do you ever think about dean and cas slow dancing to ‘open arms’ in heaven.” And then I couldn’t _stop_ thinking about it, so. Thanks brat.


End file.
